


A Thousand Years and More

by fractionallyfoxtrot



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Sky God!AU, angel!Martin, sky god!Douglas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-19
Updated: 2013-07-19
Packaged: 2017-12-20 16:36:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/889469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fractionallyfoxtrot/pseuds/fractionallyfoxtrot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Having pushed the bounds of Guardianship one too many times, Martin faces an eternity of exile on Earth.  Despite his power and stature, there's nothing Douglas can do to save Martin from his sentence.  He will lose Martin to humanity, unable to do anything but observe from a distance.</p>
<p>It's a sentence Douglas can't bear to watch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Thousand Years and More

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theKASKproject](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theKASKproject/gifts), [tracionn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tracionn/gifts).



Douglas tore across the sky, thunder cracking behind him as it struggled to keep pace.

He cut through the atmosphere, agitating the cumulonimbian landscape, leaving a shred of clouds and a streak of lightning in his wake. The air trembled in his presence, parting freely in front of him, fearing his wrath if it should impede his journey with friction or drag. Douglas broke from his flight line and dropped into a steep descent. He transitioned effortlessly from flying to sprinting as he touched down. He pushed through the angels milling about the entrance and stalked past an ineffective aide.

Douglas burst into the room and scanned the space for the one in charge of the proceedings.

It was Martin he spotted first. Douglas’ heart sank at the sight of him.

He was too late.

“Douglas.”

Douglas whipped around towards the speaker. Aleal stood beside him with a hand on Douglas’ shoulder. Douglas had every intention of beating the grave expression off Aleal’s face but the heartbreak he felt for Martin weighed him down, weakening his resolve to do anything but console.

“Aleal, what have you done?” he asked, pushing the fellow sky god away.

Martin knelt, trembling, in the middle of the room. Douglas fell to his knees in front of him, his hands hovering above where the angel’s wings used to be. Martin was bent low, his chest heaving with quiet sobs as he clutched at his shoulders, his fingers desperately raking over his bare skin. He flinched violently when Douglas placed a hand on his head as if he feared more would be torn away and taken from him.

Douglas cupped Martin’s chin gently in his hands, trying to coax Martin up so he could hold him. Martin’s eyes, still wide and red with pain, flitted upwards. He threw himself into Douglas’ arms upon recognizing the sky god’s face.

“Douglas,” Martin sobbed, burrowing his tear-streaked face into Douglas’ neck.

Douglas pulled Martin in tight, wrapping him securely in his embrace as he rubbed a soothing hand over Martin’s back, hoping to calm Martin’s full body shudder. He dutifully avoided the empty space between Martin’s shoulder blades.

“They’re gone,” Martin cried. He started to reach back over his shoulders but Douglas intercepted his hand and held it tight between them. “Gone,” he sobbed again. “My, my wings-”

“I know,” Douglas interrupted softly, not wanting Martin to say the words himself. “I know, Darling. Don’t worry. It’ll be all right.”

He stroked Martin’s hair a few times, letting his hand come to rest on Martin’s nape. Aleal moved to stand over them. Douglas glared up at the sky god he once considered his friend.

“Douglas, he broke the rules,” said Aleal.

“I understand that, Aleal, but exile?” Douglas reached for Martin’s wing before remembering it wasn’t there. “It was only a few times,” he mumbled.

“A few?” Aleal questioned. “It wasn’t just ‘a few.’ Most Guardians have a few warning marks on their wings but his wings weren’t singed, Douglas. They were covered in burns. It wasn’t his first infraction and it wouldn’t have been his last.” Aleal’s features softened as he sighed; he looked sad, almost remorseful. “Exile wasn’t my call to make,” he said, avoiding Douglas’ gaze. “It came straight from the Order.”

Before Douglas could argue, Aleal withdrew, stepping back as four heavily armored Sentinels swooped in. Two extracted Martin from Douglas’ arms and the others pulled Douglas to his feet, caging him between them. Martin’s face blanched with panic as they began to drag him away.

“Douglas!” he cried, reaching for the sky god.

Douglas strained to reach out for Martin. He struggled in the Sentinels’ hold, the clouds greying and rumbling beneath his feet as he fought to break free. Serving their purpose, the Sentinels kept him fully restrained with minimal effort. Douglas felt powerless for the first time in his existence, unable to do anything but watch Martin be marched off to banishment.

“Aleal!” he shouted, appealing to his colleague.

Aleal shrugged helplessly. “It wasn’t my call.”

“Douglas!” Martin cried.

“Aleal!” Douglas’ voice wavered as Martin’s cries grew in desperation.

“There’s nothing I can do.”

“ _Douglas!_ ”

Douglas felt the first flickerings of fear as Martin was dragged further and further away. Once in exile, Douglas would only be able to see Martin from the observer’s distance at which he viewed the rest of humanity. He’d never be able to speak to him again. He wouldn’t be able to touch him, hold him, or offer him any comfort as Martin spent the rest of eternity on Earth, alone, always feeling like he didn’t belong.

It was a sentence Douglas couldn’t bear to watch.

“Send me.”

“What?” asked Aleal.

“To Earth. Send me,” Douglas repeated. “Cast me out too.”

Aleal drew back, surprised by Douglas’ request. His eyes moved quickly to Martin and back.

“Douglas, you know it won’t-”

“I know,” he cut in.

“And you won’t retain-”

“I know.”

Aleal looked at Martin again, the angel strung helplessly between the arms of the Sentinels. He looked back at Douglas. His brow furrowed as he studied Douglas’ open face.

“You won’t be together,” he said simply.

“I’ll find him.”

Aleal considered Douglas’ words for a moment. He offered Douglas a brief thin smile, a silent wish of luck, then turned and nodded at the Sentinels restraining him. Their hold lapsed and in an instant, Douglas stood before Martin, cradling the angel’s head in his hands. He pushed away the fringe from Martin’s face and kissed his forehead.

“Douglas,” Martin whispered, sounding scared and relieved at the same time.

Douglas shushed Martin, gently wiping the tears from his face. He raised Martin’s chin so their eyes could meet.

“It’ll be all right,” he promised, stoking the flicker of hope in Martin’s eyes. “I _will_ find you. No matter how long it takes, I will find you. Don’t worry, Darling. You will fly again.”

It was a promise Douglas sealed with a kiss.

* * *

Douglas leaned back in his chair and propped his feet up on the desk.

He opened the paper with a flick of his hand. He scanned the articles with minimal interest, finding himself more taken with stealing glances at Arthur dancing in front of the coffee maker. Arthur always sang a song as he prepared the coffee, each line dictating a step in the process from measuring and pouring the water to flavoring each drink to individual likings. The whole thing ended with a flourishing kick that never failed to slosh some freshly made coffee out of the mugs and onto the serving tray.

It was all a bit much for a man of twenty-eight and a half. However, Douglas had lived thousands of years on Earth, an existence spanning continents and multiple lifetimes, and he knew far better than most how much humanity could benefit from having a few more people like Arthur.

The portacabin door opened, prompting Douglas to flip up his neglected paper and slouch lower in his seat. He did enjoy riling Carolyn up with his laziness.

He wasn’t, however, greeted by the annoyed bark of his CEO.

“H-hello?”

Not quite able to place the new voice, Douglas lowered his paper and looked up. His eyes widened as he slowly dropped his hands to the desk. His breathing slowed, his chest growing tight with shock as he stared at the well-pressed pilot standing in the doorway.

It was Martin.

He was shorter than Douglas imagined he’d be, younger too, with curly red hair that had been reined into a neat side part. It was Martin though; Douglas knew without a doubt, especially when the younger man’s brow knit in an uneasy way that Douglas knew so well. Despite his youth, Martin looked guarded, tested, as if the world hadn’t been kind to him in this or any of his lifetimes. It was a look that made Douglas wish he’d found him that much sooner.

Douglas’ search for Martin had taken him across land and time and cost him most of his remaining power. He never would’ve thought that finally finding Martin would be as easy as taking a regular job, sitting still, and letting Martin walk into his life.

Douglas remained silent for a few moments, too stunned to speak. Thankfully, Arthur took over the conversation.

“Hello!” he greeted, rushing over to Martin. “Are you the new pilot Mum hired?”

“Y-yes,” Martin answered hesitantly, a bit taken aback by Arthur’s unbridled enthusiasm.

“Brilliant! I’m Arthur,” he announced, shaking Martin’s hand vigorously. “I’m the steward. I make the drinks and serve the meals! I was just making coffee. Would you like some? You’ll have to tell me how you like yours because I’ve never made it for you before but after this time, I’ll remember! Then when we’re on GERTI, all you have to do is ask and I’ll-”

“Arthur, dear heart,” Carolyn interrupted, stepping between Martin and Arthur, “give the man some space. He’s never experienced an Arthur Shappey inquisition before and I doubt he’s prepared to at half seven on a Monday morning.” She smiled gently at the slightly crestfallen look on Arthur’s face. “Why don’t you make us all coffee?”

Arthur brightened instantly. “Okay! How do you like yours, Skip?”

Martin looked around the room, unintentionally giving Douglas pause when they made eye contact for the first time, only to see that everyone was looking at him.

“My name’s Martin,” he corrected.

“Oh, right!” Arthur laughed. “I knew that. I was just calling you ‘Skip’ because you’re the new captain! You know, short for ‘Skipper’? Our old captain didn’t let me call him ‘Skip.’ Is it all right if I call you ‘Skip’?”

Martin considered the question for a moment. “Um, sure.”

“Brilliant! How do you like your coffee, Skip?”

“Black’s fine,” Martin answered, a smile beginning to warm his face.

“Make mine tea,” said Carolyn, moving around Arthur to get to her office. “And bring out some of those stale biscuits leftover from Milan.”

“Right-o!” Arthur replied, gathering mugs and spoons and plates. “Coffee for you, Douglas?”

“Please,” he answered, eyes still fixed on Martin.

Arthur went to work, setting out the mugs and spoons and plates on Martin’s desk before turning back to the coffee maker. Carolyn pulled out her chair and took a seat at her desk with a carefully concealed sigh. Left without further instruction or introduction, Martin continued to stand in the portacabin doorway, turning his hat in his hands. He glanced at Douglas, the look in his eyes so familiar that, while Douglas knew it to be impossible, he almost thought Martin knew who he was.

Confirming the truth, Martin cleared his throat, tucked his hat under his arm, and stepped up to Douglas’ desk.

“Sorry, I didn’t catch your name,” he said, offering Douglas his hand.

Douglas set down his paper and stood to shake Martin’s hand. “Douglas, Douglas Richardson.”

“Martin Crieff,” he said with a brief smile.

“It’s a pleasure.” Douglas glanced at Carolyn and Arthur, finding them both well and truly occupied with their own activities. Now was as good a time as any to properly re-introduce himself to Martin. “Tell you what,” he said loudly so everyone in the portacabin could hear him. “Why don’t I take Martin outside to meet GERTI? We could do the walk around while Arthur finishes making the coffee.”

Carolyn mumbled something that could’ve been agreement. It was more than enough for Douglas and they waved goodbye to Arthur as he led Martin out of the portacabin. The younger man followed a few steps behind him as they walked out to the plane.

“Oh,” Martin breathed as he got closer. “A Lockheed-McDonnel 3-12. I didn’t realize there were any of those still flying.”

Douglas paused in reaching for the door and looked back at Martin. He’d stopped just behind the wing. He stared up at the plane with a mixture of awe and joy on his face and laid a hand reverently on the fuselage. Martin raised his other hand and ran his fingers along the stripes of blue and grey that swept up towards GERTI’s tail, smiling broadly to himself.

Douglas couldn’t help but chuckle. It made perfect sense that, being without his wings, Martin’s love of flying would translate to a love of aeroplanes.

Martin heard him. He pulled his hands away from the plane and ducked under the wing to hurry after Douglas. He avoided looking at Douglas as he pulled down the airstairs, trying to hide the light flush of embarrassment that colored his cheeks.

“Well, there aren’t many,” Douglas said, trying to keep his voice light and free of teasing. He climbed a few steps and pat GERTI’s side, shrugging at the strange clanking noise that echoed from somewhere inside. “And those that are barely do,” he laughed.

Martin met his eyes again, clearly glad to be in on the joke, not part of it. “That’s very impressive though,” he said, climbing the stairs after Douglas.

“Wait till you see the flight deck.”

Martin followed him into the cabin and through the galley. Douglas opened the flight deck door, stopping just inside the threshold, and turned to face Martin. Not expecting the sudden stop, Martin walked straight into him. Douglas took advantage of their close proximity and took the pilot’s head in both hands, positioning his thumbs over Martin’s temples and reaching his fingers as far to the back of Martin’s neck as possible.

“Douglas?” Martin questioned. He tried to turn his head out of Douglas’ grasp but Douglas didn’t release him. “Douglas, what are you doing?” Martin asked, dropping his hat as he tried to push distance between them.

Douglas held firm, albeit gently, and closed his eyes, focusing on the remains of his power.

He worked slowly and carefully, having only touched the mind a few times before in his existence. Douglas restored Martin’s memories, unlocking the details of his previous lifetimes on Earth. He pieced together memories which had been shattered on exile: Martin’s existence as an angel, his wings, his Guardianship. Douglas returned himself to Martin’s memories, being careful to replace what had been lost and nothing more.

Martin’s body went limp as his mind struggled to deal with the sudden wave of new-old information. Douglas pulled him close, supporting him with a hand on the back of his neck. Douglas pressed his thumb over Martin’s spine and covered his own neck in a similar manner.

He used the very last remnants of his power to free them both from the cursed cycle of exile.

Martin remained still for a few minutes after he finished. Douglas slid an arm around his waist to better support him, cherishing the simple pleasure of being able to hold Martin again.

Martin stirred with a quiet gasp. Douglas let him pull back, eyes wide as he looked around, struggling to reorient himself in the world. His eyes met Douglas’ and Martin exhaled slowly, the tense grip he had on Douglas’ arms relaxing.

Douglas knew, without a doubt, that Martin knew exactly who he was.

"Douglas,” Martin breathed with relief. He stepped into Douglas’ embrace, reaching out to touch a cautious hand to his face. His fingers traced over Douglas’ eyes, nose, and jaw before Martin threw his arms around him and tucked his face into Douglas’ chest. “Oh, God, Douglas,” he whispered as Douglas’ arms tightened around him.

“So I’ve been called,” Douglas mused.

He laughed when Martin hit him lightly on the back. He drew his arms further around Martin and nuzzled into his hair. Douglas took long, deep breaths as he observed the younger man’s height and build, noting how Martin’s nose met the base of his throat and how his shoulders were broadest at the bottom of Douglas’ sternum. He moved his hands up over Martin’s bare back, a solemn reminder of what had been lost, and wondered about the firm muscles he felt beneath his fingers.

Douglas brushed his cheek against Martin’s red curls, trying to commit every detail of Martin’s current form to memory.

“I found you,” he said softly. “It took thousands of years of searching and waiting but I found you.”

Martin sighed, his breath growing shallow in a way Douglas recognized as crying. He cupped Martin’s chin and coaxed his head up. He wiped the tears from Martin’s face before kissing him chastely on the lips. Martin smiled at that, grabbing Douglas by the lapels of his jacket and pulling him down for a proper kiss. Their lips met and familiarity sparked a longing for each other’s touch that had long been ignored. Hands slid into hair, teeth nipped, and soft moans sounded as they found each other again; new bodies, same hearts.

“I always loved you,” Martin said against Douglas’ lips.

Douglas pulled back from the embrace so he could see Martin’s face. “Darling, I never stopped.”

The smile that brightened Martin’s face was worth every lifetime, every war, regime, and seemingly endless day Douglas had lived through.

“What now?” Martin asked with a shrug.

“Now,” Douglas grinned, pulling Martin in again for a kiss. “Now, we get you flying again.”


End file.
